He leaned one elbow on an armrest to support the side of his head in the palm of his hand. In that position, he contin-ued.
"That was eight years ago, as you noted. In that intervening time, such procedures as in vitro fertilization and non-surgi-cal ovum transfer have solved virtually all problems of infer-tility. The prospect of safe abortifacient drugs promises to re-solve the abortion debate."
"It does not," Fletcher said. "It just hides the problem-"
"May I finish?" Cospe's voice never shifted from its soft tim-bre. "All right, then. Contraceptive technology is proceeding at such a pace that unwanted pregnancies will soon be a thing of the past. Will you admit that at that point transoption will be obsolete?"
"Mostly," Evelyn said grudgingly. "But there'll always be someone who-" Cospe raised his other hand. "Just let me finish. The reason ethics committees grapple so long with such difficult ques-tions as the right to life of a fetus or of risks of morbidity to the mother is that occasionally the passage of time will make such questions moot. You acted in haste. You chose to perform an operation that in a few years will-in all likelihood-be use-less or at least extremely rare."
"Well," Fletcher said, lighting up a cigarette, "it's damned useful right now. And if I had done this five years ago and it had caught on, there might be a few million kids alive today who are dead now."
"Oh, that'd be great," Deyo said from a corner of the office. "Think of the population mess we'd be in. The world's over-crowded now. Abortion may be the only thing keeping us from Malthusian disaster."
Dr. Lawrence cleared his throat. "Do you see what over-whelming issues we've had to contend with in this?"
"None of these considerations were in your report," Fletcher said. She blew a puff of smoke in Lawrence's direction. "You're making it all up on the spot." She turned toward Deyo. "As for overpopulation, I've heard predictions of doom every time the world added another billion. Did it ever occur to you that one of the children from those extra millions might grow up to be the genius who'll find a solution to hunger or war? How many potential Einsteins have been aborted in the last eight years?" Deyo snorted. "About as many as potential Charlie Mansons." Fletcher narrowed her eyes. "We obviously have two differ-ent views of human potential. If an abundance of people wor-ries you so much, you can always rectify the matter, starting with yourself."
"Doctor Fletcher," said Lawrence in a strict tone. "There is no need to stoop to insult. The ethics subcommittee has no choice in this matter but to notify the district attorney imme-diately. To do otherwise would expose this institution to a se-vere liability."
"Which we may not be able to avoid, anyway," Deyo added. "If Dr. Fletcher's criminal intent can be demonstrated-"
"What crime?" Fletcher asked, stubbing out her cigarette angrily. "Show me where the crime is. Valerie Dalton came in for a pregnancy termination. She received one. Karen Chan-dler came in to get pregnant. She got pregnant. If there's any crime there, I can't see it. If anything, I made efficient use of lab equipment by recycling the fetus."
"That's enough!" Lawrence picked up the telephone and punched a button. "Sherry? Get me the district attorney's of-fice. Yes. Frawley himself." He gazed at Fletcher. "We'll see what he has to say." " Someone had called the reporters. Lawrence and the others watched from the administrator's office window as two scream-ing police cars, lights flashing, screeched to a halt in the park-ing lot. Television remote vans pulled up. Station wagons driven by radio reporters and smaller cars loaded with newspaper reporters and photographers disgorged their loads with vomitous urgency. They had not descended simultaneously, but it was obvious that someone had broadcast word of the DA's arrival.
"Election year," Fletcher noted. "And a slow news day, too." Lawrence sighed. The reporters headed toward the police cars with the giddy expectation of heirs around a deathbed.
Big trouble was brewing, and the administrator was deter-mined to control not only what he said but what the DA per-ceived.
"I would advise everyone," he told the other three, "to re-main calm and let me handle the DA." His intercom buzzed. He pressed a button. "Is that the DA, Sherry?"
"Yes," a tinny voice said over the speaker.
"Please send him in."
The door opened to admit Malcolm Frawley, an impressively large man who was once a college football star and radio an-nouncer. He nodded his head of thinning red hair at Lawrence.
"Dr. Lawrence," he said. His voice had the rich, deep tones of a professional orator. "Is this the woman?"
"This is Dr. Evelyn Fletcher," Lawrence said. "Dr. Leo Cospe, Mr. Shawn Deyo." Frawley shook the men's hands. He sat in the chair that Dr. Lawrence indicated. The others returned to their own.
"I must admit, Dr. Lawrence, that your call knocked me off my feet. I haven't heard anything this monstrous since.. well, for a long time. Are you sure it's as you say?" He produced a notebook and a gold Cross ballpoint.
"I'm afraid so. I received a call from a lab technologist who voiced suspicions that confirmed some of my own. I confronted Dr. Fletcher, and she admitted everything. I called you only minutes later. You have my assurance that the medical center knew nothing of this." He eyed the DA with earnest intensity.
"You must understand that we wish to avoid publicity if at all possible. It's the policy of Bayside to assist in the prosecution of doctors who engage in unethical or illegal practices. An eth-ics subcommittee has already-"
"Railroaded me," Fletcher said.
Before Lawrence could continue, his intercom buzzed again. This time he picked up the phone.
"Yes?"
He listened for a moment, thanked the secretary, and cradled the phone. His puffy fingers tapped a few times against the black plastic.
"There you have it," he said. "The valiant press decided to interview members of our permanent floating picket line. They naturally found out what's going on up here. Someone just decided to heave a bench through the lobby window."
Frawley nodded wearily. "I think you'll want to issue a state-ment that my department has everything in hand." He turned toward Evelyn. "As an officer of the court, I'd like to inform you of the following rights. You have the right to remain si-lent. If you give-"
"If you had any understanding of or respect for rights," she said icily, "you wouldn't be here doing this."
Frawley shrugged. Rising to stride over to the office doors, he poked his head through to signal one of the young officers. He promptly entered with a pair of handcuffs.
"Must you?" Dr. Lawrence asked.
Frawley nodded. "It's for her own protection."
Fletcher held out her hands. "What he means is it looks good on TV around election time." The DA shook his head with a disappointed expression and removed his navy-blue jacket, offering it to the manacled woman.
"What's that for?" she asked.
"To cover your face when we go past the reporters."
She threw him a withering glare. "I had reason to be secre-tive. I have none to be ashamed."
"Have it your way," he said, slipping back into the jacket. "Gentlemen." The two officers flanked him by the door. He grasped Evelyn by the arm and said, "Keep your head low and walk with me as fast as the boys can clear a path."
The doors opened. The two officers pushed into the throng, politely asking everyone to stand aside, please, as they shoved with hands and forearms against the human sea of reporters. Frawley pushed forward on Fletcher's arm to set up a quick pace.